


Love is like a border skirmish

by ineptshieldmaid



Series: Studies in Han Solo's Excellent Taste, Featuring a Full Cast of Rebellion Heroes, Dashing Pilots, and a Wookie Chorus [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Antagonistic Flirting, Casual Sex, F/M, Pegging, Pregnancy, Threesome, han solo is terrible at communicating, leia organa is no better, luke and chewie are sensible, not-yet-relationship sex, pregnant pegging, that latter is a thing you cannot find pictures of on google, threesome negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-04 12:19:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6657484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineptshieldmaid/pseuds/ineptshieldmaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time is on Hoth. Han’s not a stranger, at that point. Leia thinks, afterwards, it might have been smarter to make a move on him when he <i>was</i> a stranger. Just a freebooter, a smuggler, with no plans to stick around.</p><p>(Update: grew extra chapters. Rating increased accordingly.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deputychairman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deputychairman/gifts).



> At some point this was supposed to be a five-times type thing. I had plans. Deputy got me thinking about Han and Leia's youthful sex life, and I had plans. I have completely forgotten what they were and didn't leave notes to myself.
> 
> Title is not from a song, because the song I had in mind cannot be easily space-ified. But tell me [this is not a Han/Leia trainwreck romance song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_0nROFZDvQ).

The first time is on Hoth. Han’s not a stranger, at that point. Leia thinks, afterwards, it might have been smarter to make a move on him when he _was_ a stranger. Just a freebooter, a smuggler, with no plans to stick around. 

Not that he’s supposed to stick around here, around Echo Base. The place isn’t open for business yet: Leia’s here because Mon Mothma sent her, along with the second wave of Engineers and Ops crew. The painters and decorators - not that there’s anything to paint or decorate in a warren of ice caves. 

‘Don’t tell me you want my feminine touch in hanging the curtains,’ Leia had said, as tartly as she dared to be to Mothma’s face. Mon Mothma has known Leia since Leia was knee-high to a grasshopper, and Leia’s been a little bit intimidated by her ever since. 

‘No, I want your sharp eyes on the budget,’ Mothma says, with something approaching a smile. Leia resists the urge to swear or show dismay. Mothma _knows_ she hates accounting, knows Leia would rather play with the economic projections for an entire star system than the bottom line of a single project. Unfortunately, Mothma also knows the bounty on Leia’s head - and the heads of any remaining Alderaanian nobility out there - has increased by orders of magnitude in the past year

So she’s on Hoth, bothering Monnon’s accountants and generally getting in people’s way, when Han and Chewie come roaring in with a cargo of… recreational supplies, Leia thinks, peering at the inventory. Recreational holosim pods, gaming tables, not one but three jukeboxes, and what looks like the set-up for a decent sized holotheatre suite. 

‘I don’t want to ask where you got these, do I?’ Leia says. This is vaguely within her purview: it’s a matter of accounting and record-keeping. Granted, no one is entirely sure what her purview _is_ , and she has no rank aside from Princess of a no-longer-extant planet, so almost anything could be her business if she made it.

‘Not if you want to keep your pretty hands clean,’ Han says, and Leia hates the fact she looks instinctively down at her hands. They _are_ clean, carefully manicured despite the practical short nails and lack of polish. She knows, she knows perfectly well her competence is not measured by the state of her fingernails, not by anyone who matters. And yet.

‘I’ll be in the rec room this evening,’ Han says. ‘Got a bottle of Shesharillian vodka, too. I know you missed me: I could be persuaded to share.’

‘Believe it or not, I have better sources of alcohol than you,’ Leia says, rolling her eyes at him. She wants to storm off, but she’s still got the inventory in her hands, and then Chewie appears around the hull. She likes Chewie, for all he has terrible taste in company.

She ends up in the rec room anyway that night: not looking for Han, of course not. She’s got friends. Colleagues. People who like her, or feel sorry for her, or… something. 

None of them are around. Han is. He passes her the vodka. The whole bottle of it.

‘I generally drink out of glasses,’ Leia tells him.

Han looks up at her, lounging back in his chair in that infuriating way he has. ‘I don’t,’ he says, and swipes the bottle back. He swigs straight from it, which has got to be practically lethal - Shesharillian vodka is strong stuff. His mouth looks obscene, wrapped around the lip of the bottle, and she knows he knows it.

‘Have a drink,’ Han says, holding out the bottle again. ‘I’m not contagious,’ he adds. ‘Probably.’

He’s got a perfectly clean bill of health, or he did when he left Yavin IV, Leia knows that perfectly well. He knows she knows it, too.

‘Who says _I’m_ not?’ Leia says, and plucks the bottle from his hand. He’s surprised, and she likes that. He’s not on the back foot often enough. 

‘Not unless priggishness is catching, you’re not,’ Han says, and Leia wants him off-guard again, so she takes a swig from the bottle. It’s strong. She can hold her drink, but she wouldn’t _choose_ to down whole shots of vodka straight. Except, well, she has now, hasn’t she?

‘So,’ Han says, and maybe he’s surprised but he’s not showing it now. ‘What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?’

‘My job,’ Leia says.

‘Decorating,’ Han counters. ‘Choosing curtains.’

It’s too close to the truth. ‘Accounting,’ Leia snaps. ‘Rebelling. General… rebellion-ing.’ She might have drunk more of the vodka than she thought.

‘Must be boring,’ Han says, looking her up and down. ‘Stuck out here. Bet you could use a distraction.’

Later, she’ll try to tell herself it was the vodka, but even she won’t be convinced. She has many drunken foibles, but ill-advised sexual choices have never been one of them. That would be political suicide - maybe not for some princesses, not on the kinds of planets where royalty are a decorative social institution and source of gossip. But for a young Senator, and heir presumptive to a throne like Alderaan? She courted enough scandal speaking out against the Emperor without bringing extra scrutiny on herself.

Of course, neither the Senate nor Alderaan exist anymore. Who’s to care if she tarts around with any and all comers?

‘Come on, Princess,’ Han says. ‘This place is cold. Lemme warm you up.’ He waggles his eyebrows a little, and she’s starting to suspect he’s not serious about it - or he’s resigned to it going nowhere.

‘Fine,’ she says. ‘My quarters, not yours.’

Han stares at her.

Of course the first thing he says is ‘What’s wrong with the Falcon?’

‘That ship is a rusty bucket of nails and I wouldn’t lie down in it if I had no other choice,’ Leia says.

‘Insulting a man’s home and livelihood is no way to get him into bed,’ Han says, and he’s lost the cool asshole act and slid right into genuine anger. Leia sort of likes it, actually. ‘You’ve got some nerve, woman.’

‘I thought this was you trying to get _me_ into bed,’ Leia points out. 

Han hasn’t got an answer to that.

‘And I have an actual bed,’ Leia adds, smug. It’s not much of one, but it’s got a little thermal field around it, which not all of the enlisted crew bunks have yet. They will, eventually, but resources are stretched tight.

Han is still staring at her. He hadn’t expected her to take him up on it. Of course he hadn’t: she hadn’t either. 

‘Well, you talk a good game, Captain Solo,’ she says. ‘But you’re not so cocky when it comes to the crunch, are you?’

He lets the obvious cock joke pass. Impressive.

‘Don’t rate yourself so highly,’ Han says, instead. ‘Maybe I have other plans tonight.’

‘I think you don’t know what to do with a woman who wants something from you, for once,’ Leia says.

‘Princess, they _all_ want something from me,’ Han says, and she shouldn’t have given him that opening. 

‘Well,’ she says, ‘I don’t want you for your conversational skill. Are you interested, or not?’ She gets up from the table: it’s a challenge and an exit strategy all in one. She’s not going to sit around trying to convince him to fuck her. That’s beneath her, even if no one else in the galaxy would care anymore.

‘I have many skills,’ Han says, standing up after her. He bows, exaggerated and mocking. ‘Lead on, fair lady.’

‘Keep up,’ she says, and sets off at a brisk walk for her quarters. His legs are longer than hers, of course, but she knows where she’s going and she’s used to walking on the icy floor now. He isn't.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what happened here. But here is item two of five times. I will have to put the fic rating up...

Han Solo finds out he’s having a relationship with Leia Organa the same day he finds out they are having strictly casual sex. This is also the same day she takes him to bed for the fifth time (or is it sixth? There was the incident on Barkesh to factor in, which definitely didn’t involve a bed and may or may not have constituted sex depending on which species or culture you asked).

Luke finds him working on the underbelly of the Falcon. The ship’s out of commission again, which is why he’s been flying Her Prissy Highness around on semi-covert missions in an unremarkable and unlovable transport. He and Chewie both: people are intimidated by wookies, and Mon Mothma made it perfectly clear that she wanted the Princess protected by a pair of unscrupulous scoundrels, as it was even odds whether the so-called Alderaanian loyalists they were tracking down would turn out to be the same. The Alderaanian embassy on Coruscant had repudiated Leia long ago, and put it about that she, an adoptee, had brought bad blood into the monarchy. Even Han knows that is a pile of horseshit, knows Bail Organa was stupidly noble-minded and foolishly devoted to the long-dead Republic. Plenty of the Alderaanian diaspora fit into that category, too, and Mon Mothma wanted them brought in, and Leia was the girl to do it. Of course, plenty of other members of the Alderaanian diaspora would hand her over to the Emperor as soon as look at her.

Han hates politics. Hates stupid backwater colonists, hates strolling through Inner Rim planets in disguise, hates the way people treat Leia like something awesome and precious, hates the way other people patronise her. He even hates the fact that he has had to kill people for her, because they might have deserved it but they deserved it for grubby political reasons and not because they were going to kill him first.

‘You and Leia are fighting again,’ Luke says, peering under the belly of the ship. 

‘Nothing to fight about,’ Han says. ‘She can do what she likes.’

‘You know Leia doesn’t sleep with people for politics,’ Luke says. Stupid noble-minded kid. What would he know about it? ‘She’s not like that.’

‘What’s it to me if she is?’ Han asks.

‘Look,’ Luke says, reasonably, still peering under the ship. He looks ridiculous and Han is not getting up to make it easier on him. ‘She’s got a job to do. That means she has to keep people happy. Make them like her…’

‘That guy was a sleaze,’ Han says, and that’s tantamount to admitting that he does care.

‘She knows that,’ Luke says. ‘Believe me.’

‘What, have you two been gossiping? Catching up on Her Highness’s latest conquests?’ Han doesn’t care who Leia flirts with. She flirts with Luke all the time, doesn’t she? He doesn’t care. It’s just sex. Plenty of people have sex in war. Half this base is having sex right now.

‘No,’ Luke says, and he sounds slightly wounded. Like he’s offended at the suggestion he and Leia gossip. Like the two of them don’t put their heads together and giggle like teenage girls about the social and sexual lives of the Rebellion every chance they get. (Apparently Lieutenant Bey is pregnant and someone named Dameron is the father. Bey Han knows: she’s a pilot, and she and Leia are thick as thieves; Dameron he’s never heard of. But he doesn’t _care_ , Bey could be having puppies for all he cares.) 

‘She hasn’t got any conquests,’ Luke says, which is a screaming lie. She’s got twenty-five Alderaanian recruits to the Rebellion, that’s conquests. ‘You’re just, all,’ and Han cranes around to see Luke making the vague gesture he takes to mean _I’m psychically spying on you with the Force_.

‘Fuck off and stop reading my mind,’ Han says. Luke’s face goes stony, but he doesn’t argue, just goes. Han doesn’t feel much better.

He’s just about got over the encounter with Luke when a runner calls him in to speak with Admiral Ackbar. Han goes, and he’s already angry, because he finds angry is the best way to deal with commanding officers. He fucking hates the military and he fucking hates the way they all know things he doesn’t and he fucking hates the way he’s supposed to toe the line and kiss ass.

‘Sit down,’ Ackbar says to him.

‘I’d rather not,’ Han says. He feels like he’s been called to see the principal, and given he didn’t take any schooling past the age of twelve, that’s not a feeling he’s had for a long time.

‘This is not an official matter,’ Ackbar says. Han still doesn’t sit down. ‘I wanted to speak to you about… your relationship with Leia.’

‘My _what_?’ Han says. ‘There’s no- we’re not having a...’

‘You are having sexual relations with her, are you not?’ Ackbar asks, gills twitching. Han’s never been sure if the Mon Calamari have sexual intercourse. There’s probably information out there somewhere, but why would he bother looking it up? Until the day one wants to have sex with him, it’s none of his business. 

Right now, though, he’s feeling like the answer is probably ‘no’. Ackbar is looking at him like he’s studying a peculiar and unknown species.

‘I, ah,’ Han says. He sounds like a fool and he knows it. ‘Yes. Sometimes. Is there a problem with that?’

‘As you are aware,’ Ackbar says, ‘Leia has neither adoptive nor birth family remaining. Her few surviving cousins by adoption have repudiated her.’

‘Yes,’ Han says, because he does know that. ‘One of them tried to kidnap her on Kuat.’

‘An attempt you and Chewbacca foiled admirably,’ Ackbar says. ‘We have great faith in Leia’s physical and political safety with you.’

But. Han can hear the ‘but’ coming. _But I’m not having a relationship with her_ , he wants to shout.

‘However,’ Ackbar says, ‘she is very young, and she does not have a family. It therefore falls upon me to inform you, Captain Solo, that we’ - he does not specify who _we_ might be: the Admiralty? The Mon Calamari? The entire force-damned Rebellion?- ‘are very fond of the Princess, and if you hurt her or treat her callously, you will regret it.’

Han opens his mouth to snarl something about the Princess can look after her own damn self, and the like. What comes out is ‘Understood, sir.’

‘Good,’ Ackbar says, and turns back to his terminal. ‘Dismissed.’

Han really hates the military.

So that’s how he finds out he’s having a Relationship with Leia Organa: someone’s given him the if-you-hurt-my-princess talk and he’s said “understood, sir”, like he’s actually a respectable responsible man. It is not the first time he’s said that, but the last time, he was fifteen kriffing years old.

‘Chewie,’ he says, ‘did you know I was having a Relationship with Organa?’ 

‘Dipshit,’ Chewie says, or words to that effect. Some languages have words for yes-in-answer-to-a-negative-question or different words for ‘yes please’ compared to ‘yes I agree’. Shryriwook has words for ‘you’re correct and you’re a fucking dumbass’.

‘And Luke says we’re fighting,’ Han adds, because that just adds insult to injury. First he didn’t know he was having a Relationship, and then when he finds out, it turns out they’re fighting.

‘Yes, fuckhead,’ Chewie says. ‘You are.’

Han decides not to ask Chewie if Chewie thinks Han is jealous of, of whatsisface, that slimy petty-noble Alderaanian exile fellow. He’s not. The guy was a sleaze, and Han still thinks he might sell them out to the Empire. Leia’s too trusting, that’s what. (She’s not. Even Han can’t make that accusation stick. But she might be clouded by her grief. That’s it. Grief is affecting her judgement.)

‘You should make it up to her,’ Chewie says. Han’s about to ask how he’s supposed to make it up to her when he didn’t do anything wrong, but he registers the innuendo. Make it up to her, huh. One of the advantages of Relationships, theoretically, is make-up sex. Suddenly Han likes this whole idea a lot better than he did a few minutes ago.

The thing is, he thinks, as he makes his way to Leia’s quarters, they never did actually discuss terms. They fuck. They argue, and Han makes passes at her and sometimes she takes him up on them. Sometimes she doesn’t. Once or twice she’s made passes at him, and he’s never said no. He tells himself he could, but why would anyone turn that down? She’s half the galaxy’s spank-fodder.

He’s not fucking anyone else, but that doesn’t mean anything. He’s spent plenty of time not fucking anyone. It’s kind of hard to get laid in deep space, and Chewie is very much not into human men, that was made clear early on.

‘The hell are you doing here,’ Leia says, when he knocks on her door.

‘I, uh,’ Han says. ‘I came to…’ and he’s not going to apologise, he’s not, not even for make-up sex. ‘See if you’re okay?’

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Leia demands.

‘Well, uh. That guy, Nyar or whoever. He was kinda pushy.’

Leia narrows her eyes at him. ‘I can look after myself, Captain Solo.’

‘I know,’ Han says, and gives up. He’ll go. This is ridiculous.

‘And you,’ Leia says, ‘have got some nerve, telling me _he’s_ pushy, after your petty little show.’

‘It’s not my fault if you will persist in endangering yourself!’ Han fires back. They’re still in the doorway. ‘I’m under orders to protect you!’

‘I can protect myself!’ Leia snaps. ‘And I didn’t need protecting, I was _doing my job_.’

‘If your job is getting felt up on every planet in the Inner Rim,’ Han says.

‘Maybe it is,’ Leia says, folding her arms. ‘Maybe that’s part of my job and none of your fucking business.’

‘Fine! Enjoy your slimy little followers!’

‘You’re jealous!’ Leia shouts at him. Someone bumps into him from behind, but Han ignores them.

‘Jealous? Over you? Please, Princess, be realistic.’

‘ _Men_ ,’ Leia spits. ‘No concept of casual sex, have you?’

‘I have plenty of casual sex,’ Han says. He does. Exactly as much as he wants, which is often none. That’s plenty. 

‘And do you think you own every being you put your dick in? Or just the women?’

‘No one else I fuck has your sense of entitlement!’ That, at least, is true. ‘You think everyone wants a piece of you, don’t you?’

‘Oh, for…’ Leia grabs him by the shirt and drags him inside. ‘I know you do,’ she says, and starts unbuckling his belt before she’s even got the door properly shut. Han’s head spins. He’s not sure if this is make-up sex or break-up sex, but either way, he’s into it.

They start out fast and rough: Leia gets her pants off and his open and shoves him back onto the bed and rides him hard. She scratches nails down his chest and cries out when she comes, and the fact that her hair is still in perfect shape seems deeply, vastly unfair to Han. He’s not thinking straight, perhaps.

Then she gets _up_ , gets off him, and he can’t help it: he whines and reaches out to grab her back. She slaps his hands away. 

‘This,’ she says, glaring down at him, ‘is just sex. You have no claim on me. Nothing. Do you get that?’

‘I,’ Han says. Ackbar’s voice echoes in his head. _If you hurt her or treat her callously…_. ‘Understood, Princess.’

‘Now shut up,’ she says, and starts dragging his pants down his legs. Han lets her, because whatever she has in mind is bound to be good. It always is. 

She crawls back up and kisses him, deep and filthy, then sits back, looking predatory. Then she spreads his legs - not touching his dick, because she’s a foul tease - and runs gentle fingers over his balls, lingering behind them for a moment before moving up to press against his asshole.

‘Fuck,’ he says. 

‘That was the idea,’ Leia says, smirking. She rubs gently, not pushing in but definitely promising good things.

‘Fuck,’ Han says, again, legs falling open. ‘Lube.’

‘Under the pillow,’ Leia says. Han finds it and passes it to her. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday,’ Leia adds, slicking her fingers up. She was, she was born practically this morning; she’s a decade younger than he is and she’s got her finger in his fucking ass like she does this all the time.

Leia fingers him until he’s a gibbering mess, and then sucks him off for the approximately twenty seconds it takes for him to come apart entirely. She doesn’t give him much of a chance to recover, either, just scrambles up the bed and says, panting, ‘Fingers.’ He reaches down, and he gets the angle all wrong - she’s hot and wet and gorgeous but his wrist doesn’t bend like that, fuck. She grabs his hand and turns her hips until she’s grinding down on the ball of his palm, and he can just about get two fingers inside her before she comes a second time.

Han doesn’t have his mind in order, and all he can think is that if she sat on his face instead, he wouldn’t have to keep a straight face. He wouldn’t have to worry about opening his mouth and saying something ridiculous, like _You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen_ or _Everyone thinks we’re together_ or _Can we keep doing this forever?_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not sure what compelled me to turn out another chapter at such a rate. I have notes on what goes in chs 4, 5 and possibly 6 now, though!

When Han kisses her, on the Falcon in the middle of an asteroid belt (in the middle of what turns out to be the mouth of an exogorth), it’s the first time in months. Since before the whole Ord Mantell mission started, at least: she’s not exactly keeping account.

It was Ord Mantell that did it, though. Luke was with them, and that was weird: Luke seemed to think she and Han were something more than they were, and yet he looked at her like she was the brightest thing in his universe, and more than half the time she felt full of light and warmth when she looked at him in return. And Han was... oh, Han was infuriating, all bluster and insecurity and stupid, stupid games. She wanted to fuck him into the mattress - and she had been doing that - but afterward, when he was dragging on his clothes and finding new ways to bait her, she found herself thinking that Luke wouldn’t be like this. She couldn’t really picture fucking Luke into anything: but she knew, with bone-deep certainty, that if she did, he’d look at her afterward like she lit the sun and she’d be filled with warmth.

And then Han had stopped talking about leaving; he stopped talking about himself like he was a contractor the Rebellion relied upon but who could leave at any time. He and Luke were making plans, plans that turned into the Ord Mantell mission. They planted false evidence suggesting the Rebellion was moving to Ord Mantell, and at the same time pulled off a heist (a _reclamation_ , Leia insists) and liberated a large stash of credits from one of her father’s former companies. Leia was involved all the way through the planning and the execution, and she found herself looking at Han and Luke both and thinking _maybe this can last_.

Han made fewer passes at her with Luke around, anyway, and didn’t seem to notice when Leia stopped taking him up on them. Or maybe he noticed but didn’t care. She couldn’t, though: couldn’t take him to bed and see him out again like she wasn’t half in love with someone else. Nor could she take him to bed and see him out again like she didn’t care if he never came back, because she did. 

So she stopped sleeping with Han when she thought he might not leave, and then fought viciously with him when he changed his mind and said he was leaving after all. 

And now they’re stranded in an asteroid belt (in the mouth of an exogorth, it turns out) and she’s talking about _nice men_ and thinking of Luke. Han kisses her and all of that goes out of her head.

They don’t get much further with that for a while, because of interfering droids and then discovering they’re inside a _mouth_ , but when they’re limping through subspace, Chewbacca barks something at them which Leia is pretty sure translates as ‘go on and fuck’, so they do. Han fucks her long and hard, and rests his head on her breasts, looking more reverent than she’s ever seen him.

‘You still want to go down on me, Captain?’ she asks. He’d made that clear, early on in their… whatever you call it. He wanted to go down on her, wanted to eat her out until her head spun and she saw stars. She’d said no, because it had seemed too much like losing control, at the time. He’d asked once or twice more, and it had turned into a thing: he wouldn’t ask again, and she wouldn’t back down. 

‘Fuck, yes,’ he says, and he doesn’t ask why or what’s changed; he doesn’t make any kind of fuss over how long he’s wanted to do this for: he just goes to town and eats her out like he was born to do it.

‘You,’ he says, later, with his head nestled into her hip, ‘are amazing. The most amazing.’

‘Am I?’ Leia asks, and it comes out almost as a giggle. This is new, though, and a nice change from being told she thinks too much of herself.

‘You fuck,’ Han says, ‘like a _goddess_ , and I will eat you out from here to Bespin if you let me.’

‘Yeah, alright,’ Leia says. ‘Maybe with a few breaks to eat and piss, though.’

It takes nearly three months to reach Cloud City. They have plenty of time to eat, and fuck, and for Chewie to fine-tune her flying skills (as much as they can in subspace, anyway), and for her and Han to fuck again, and again. They argue like hell - three people cooped up in that junkyard vessel for months can’t not argue. Chewie blows off steam by inventing new swear-words, and Han and Leia fuck.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... still dunno where this torrent of wordcount is coming from.

There’s a thing about rescue operations that, in Leia’s opinion, ought to be taught in every school in the galaxy: rescuing someone from death, torture, spiders, or other forms of mishap does not entitle you to their undying love and affection. It doesn’t even earn you the right to a good fuck.

Hell, telling someone you love them doesn’t mean they owe you anything.

(Luke knows this, bless him. Even after Cloud City, even after he’d abandoned his training because she was - they were - in danger… he clung to her, but he didn’t think he was _entitled_ to her.)

These are important principles that too few people understand. 

These are important principles that Leia is suddenly finding extremely infuriating. She’s not, in hindsight, sure how she thought Mission: Rescue Han was going to go, but her plans did not include being stripped down and chained up as some kind of decoration for Jabba the Hutt (a member of a species not even sexually compatible with humanoids, so it really was all about the decoration. Look at me, I’m so powerful I can command nubile young beings that everyone wants but which are no use to me!). The plan had included Luke storming in and dramatically saving the day by the power of lightsabers, which is more or less what had happened. And then, according to plan, Lando and Chewie would fly her and Han back to rendezvous with the Fleet, and Luke would go back to important Jedi business.

It’s all worked out according to plan, barring the gold bikini episode. It’s just that… well. While the plan did not _require_ more kissing, per se, Leia had sort of supposed that would be involved. Possibly some kind of declaration of reciprocal affection, or at least showers of praise. And fucking. Ideally, there ought to be fucking. 

Instead, Han is sulking. Chewie has the con, Lando is trying to convince Han to eat something out of the assorted provisions Lando has stashed in the Falcon’s poor excuse for a galley, and everyone is ignoring Leia entirely. 

Leia considers, for about twenty seconds, being the bigger person. There’s nothing _stopping_ her from joining Lando in his fussing over Han. Except it’s perfectly clear Lando is ten times better than her at handling Han Solo in a snit, and she’s not about to set herself up for some kind of competition she’s bound to lose.

She checks the communication console again. No word from the Rebellion, because when it comes down to it, the Rebellion has bigger fish to fry than Leia Organa, Han Solo, and their rag-tag assortments of droids, wookies and ex-boyfriends. 

Oh yes. She knows about Han and Lando. Not that _Han_ told her that. Lando did. They’d had a good laugh about how like Han it was, withholding information for no good reason.

Chewie appears in the doorway, having locked the ship into its hyperspace trajectory. C3-PO is behind him, still fussing and recounting bits of Master Luke’s grand rescue operation. 

‘We know,’ Chewie barks. ‘We were fucking well there.’ And C3-PO huffs and stalks off - his joins aren’t really built for stalking, but he tries - muttering about some species having no concept of tact.

‘Here,’ Lando says, handing her a glass. Chewie has taken over bullying Han into eating, with, Leia is pleased to note, more success than Lando had been having. Leia takes the glass, which is definitely something Lando added to the Falcon’s kit: they’d been drinking out of tin mugs all the way to Bespin. The contents of the glass is also Lando’s doing: it’s pink, and probably fruity, and - she is pleased to find - definitely alcoholic.

‘You did well,’ Lando says, quietly, touching her shoulder. He smiles a little. ‘Brilliant, actually. Killed Jabba the Hutt himself.’

‘Yeah,’ Leia says, and lets herself lean into him a little. ‘I did.’ It’s not showers of praise, and it’s not from Han, but she’ll take it.

‘You two!’ Han says, suddenly, and she looks up to see him staring across at them. ‘You _fucked_.’

‘What if we did?’ Leia snaps. She meant to… well. She hadn’t really had a plan for this, either, but she was supposed to talk about this with Han _privately_.

‘You _fucked_ ,’ Han said again, looking from one of them to the other.

‘Um,’ Lando says. ‘Yes?’

‘They need a bloody distraction,’ Chewie says, in an explanatory tone. ‘They were moping like a pair of sex-starved teenagers.’

That. That wasn’t quite right. They hadn’t been moping for lack of sex. Mind you, after three months of really thorough fucking aboard ship, Han’s kidnapping was a bit of a shock to Leia’s system. But that wasn’t _why_...

She doesn’t like to think about why. On the one hand, Lando Calrissian hand turned out to be an exemplary lover: not above being forceful when needed, but charming and courteous and surprisingly affectionate afterwards. On the other hand, the whole encounter had started with Lando saying to her, as they went over plans for Han’s rescue, ‘You really love him, don’t you?’, and she’d looked at him and said ‘I do,’ and then ‘Oh. So do you.’ It’s was all very undignified, and right now, that memory is especially infuriating, in that she and Lando had fallen into each other’s arms in exactly the way Han is currently not falling into hers.

‘What’s it to you if we did?’ Leia snaps, putting the drink down so she can fold her arms. ‘You don’t own me, remember?’

‘Leia,’ Lando says, quietly. ‘That’s not…’ Because of course, he knows she’s in love with Han. Everyone in this bloody ship knows that.

‘So much for _I love you, Han_ ,’ Han says, putting on a bit of falsetto. She hates him. She really hates him.

‘Fucking dipshit,’ Chewie says.

At the same time, Lando says, ‘Of course she loves you, nerf herder.’ He does not, Leia notes, add _And so do I_.

‘Sure doesn’t look like it right now.’ Han glares at Lando’s hand, which is still on Leia’s shoulder. Leia does not shrug him off. ‘I get kidnapped and stuck in carbonite, and next thing I know, my ex is having it off with my, my…’ he stops.

‘Your what?’ Leia asks, and hates herself for hanging on the answer.

‘My… best girl?’ Han tries, and he sounds like something out of an old holovid. Leia tries very hard to pretend she isn’t enormously relieved. Lando cracks up laughing. 

‘Does that imply you have other girls?’ Lando asks.

‘I might.’ Han pouts, and Chewie mutters an untranslatable mouthful of swearwords at him.

‘There you go then,’ Lando says. ‘She loves you. You know that, she knows that, I know that, what’s the problem here?’

The problem, Leia thinks, is that it’s possible Han does not love her. Lando doesn’t even seem to be considering that possibility, though, which is sort of reassuring.

‘The problem is,’ Han says, lounging back in his chair a little. Leia knows him well enough now to register this as a shift in the mood. ‘The problem is,’ and he looks them both up and down, ‘you two having your fun _without me_.’

Lando sits down abruptly and puts his face in his hands. ‘Sweet force, Han Solo,’ he says. ‘You’re a piece of work.’

‘Want to make it up to me?’ Han asks, and he’s definitely coming onto them, legs wide and eyes wider. It’s hot as hell. It’s also… not quite what she wanted.

Lando looks over at her, genuinely curious. ‘Leia?’ If he’s got expectations, they’re not showing in his face.

‘You have time to fuck before we break hyperspace,’ Chewie says, helpfully.

‘You want to keep him to yourself, huh?’ Lando says, and he doesn’t sound put out. Wistful, maybe. But not sulky.

‘Hey!’ Han says, ‘Don’t I get a say in this?’

Leia gives up and goes over to him, straddles his lap and kisses him. Han makes a surprised noise for a second, then wraps arms around her, practically crushing her against him, as he kisses back. Damn him. She’s missed this.

‘What if I do want to keep you to myself?’ she asks, low, into Han’s ear. Lando is watching them, she hasn’t heard him move and can feel his gaze on the back of her head.

Han shudders. ‘That would be… I could cope with that.’

‘Good,’ Leia says, and straightens up. Lando gets up, too.

‘C’mon, Chewie,’ he says, ‘lets leave them to it.’

‘Wait.’ Leia puts out a hand in Lando’s direction. ‘I’m… do you want to?’

Lando looks from her to Han and back again. Han is staring up at her like she’s a miracle or hallucination.

‘Do you _want_ me to?’ Lando asks.

‘Yeah,’ Leia says, and she does. ‘I do.’

‘I do not,’ Chewie says, and lopes out. That breaks the tension: they all laugh, and Lando crosses the space between them, into Leia’s embrace.


	5. Chapter 5

Han Solo has pretty much resigned himself to spending his life with Leia Organa, by the time they take off from Endor. There’s a lot of work ahead of them, and Mon Mothma wants Leia beside her. Han is pretty sure Mothma wants Leia because Mothma regards Luke Skywalker, newly minted Jedi and slayer of the Emperor (Luke insists Darth Vader killed the Emperor, but no one else was there: Han knows how the story will go down) as a wild card and potential liability, and Leia can act as a brake on him. 

Han never considers, even for a second, doing anything but go with them. Mothma lets him, he’s pretty sure because he led a halfway-sensible ground-based attack and that’s as important on the PR circuit as mystic lightsaber battles. So Han goes with them, and it turns out he might adore Leia Organa more than he’s willing to say, but he still hates politics. He hates every minute of it, except for the minutes he gets to steal with Leia. 

They spend at least half of those minutes fighting, but they _like_ fighting. Fighting is a preamble to really fantastic make-up sex.

Perhaps they have too much of that, because about three months in Leia’s pregnant. It’s not as if Han had any plans to spend his life with anyone _except_ Leia, at this point. Well, aside from Chewie. Chewie seems resigned to spending the rest of Han's life with Leia, too, and Han appreciates that. But. Babies. Babies are something else.

He’s still kidding himself he might yet walk away (as if Chewie would let him. Chewie has no qualms about babies. Chewie loves babies. Chewie will raise small baby Organa-Solo to think it’s a peculiarly bald Wookie) when Leia comes back from a medical appointment, white-faced and holding an official-looking datapad.

‘What’s happened?’ Han asks, and he rushes to her side, putting one hand on her back and the other on the now-visible swell of her belly. ‘Are you okay? Is…’ And abruptly, he’s terrified. Is the baby okay? What if it’s _not_ okay? He has no idea what to do when babies aren’t okay. He has no idea what to do with babies at all, but he really wants this one to be okay.

‘I’m,’ Leia says, and stops. ‘No, it’s just…’ She bursts into tears.

Han tucks her against him and cradles the back of her head. He’s learning this: he can comfort her without words. If he opens his mouth, he gets it wrong, anyway. 

Eventually, Leia pulls away and shoves the datapad into his hand. It’s stamped with the logo of Coruscant central medical authority: it’s one of those official legal pads you can take home for a few days at a time, and make copies from, but which will record a binding legal signature and eventually be recalled.

The documents on it, as Han flicks through them, are for things like wills, inheritance, medical consent, next-of-kin. Where there are names of people who should be Leia’s relatives, they’re in glaring red, marked DECEASED.

Then Han realises these are all forms for _what happens if Leia dies_ , and he goggles at her. 

‘People don’t - people don’t die in childbirth anymore!’ he says. This is not very tactful, and Leia looks like she might punch him.

‘My mother did,’ she says, instead. For a second Han thinks she means Breha Organa, and then he remembers she knows about her real parents now. ‘I thought… I thought I remembered her but I must have imagined it, she died, she died giving birth to me and Luke.’ And she’s gone again, weeping into his shirt. Han holds her and stares down at the forms in his hand.

‘Well, okay, then,’ he says. ‘But most people don’t, do they?’

‘No,’ Leia says, and sniffs. 

‘So this is just a… procedure.’ 

‘I guess.’ Leia takes the datapad back, and looks down at it some more. ‘They’re all dead,’ she says, looking at her family’s names. ‘All these forms have always listed my family and they’re just… gone.’

They’ve been gone a while now, Han thinks, but he knows better than to say that.

‘You’ve got Luke,’ he says, instead, tapping the box that says SIBLINGS: NONE.

‘There’s no _proof_ ,’ Leia says. ‘What am I going to do, adopt him?’ There probably is a law for sibling adoption, somewhere in the galaxy, Han thinks.

He’s still thinking about laws of sibling adoption when he opens his mouth and says ‘Marry me.’

Leia stares at him. ‘What?’

‘Marry me,’ he says, everything snapping into clarity. ‘That will take care of… this.’ He waves at the forms, vaguely.

‘You want me to marry you for _paperwork_?’ Leia says, and it comes out something close to a shriek.

‘Well, who else are you going to put?’

‘Luke!’ she says. ‘Mothma! Anyone! No one!’ 

Han thinks about this for a second, and a new and terrifying thought occurs to him. ‘You’re not… you’re going to list me as the father? Right?’

Leia blinks. ‘Yes?’ she says, as if she’s not sure where this turn of conversation has come from.

‘Well, why not… the rest of it?’ he asks. ‘Next of kin and whatnot.’

‘I could… I could do that,’ she says. ‘I mean, we’re having a baby. That makes sense.’ Then, narrowing her eyes a little, she says, ‘You don’t have to _marry_ me just because we’re having a baby.’

‘I,’ Han says. ‘I don’t.’ He’s quite certain of that. He doesn’t have to marry anyone. Marriage is quite definitely not something he has to do. ‘But I, well. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere?’ he offers. It’s not much. He’s pretty sure there have been worse proposals of marriage before, but he can’t think of one.

‘Going anywhere how?’ Leia says, and to his surprise, her mouth twitches. ‘We’re going to Naboo next week.’

‘And I’m going with you,’ Han says. ‘I was, ah. Planning on staying with you?’

‘You don’t have to marry me.’ Leia is still looking at him oddly. ‘And,’ she adds, more certainly, ‘We can’t possibly spend all our time together, have you seen the list of things Mothma wants done even before the baby’s born? We need to split up. You and Lando are going to, um, Sullust, next month.’

‘Well, okay, then,’ Han says. ‘I know that. I didn’t mean _physically_ together, I mean… together.’ He makes a vague gesture. ‘But I mean, if you don’t want to…’

Leia sits down, abruptly. He worries, for a second, that she might be ill.

‘Han Solo,’ she says, ‘Are you telling me you _want_ to marry me?’

‘Wasn’t that what I just said?’

She covers her face with her hands and her shoulders shake. Han drops to his knees in front of her, instinctively gathering her in. He doesn’t know why she’s crying, but it can’t be good.

‘You,’ she says, pulling back, and she’s not crying, she’s _laughing_ , ‘are a disaster of a human being.’

‘I know,’ he says. ‘Marry me?’

‘Okay,’ Leia says, and that is a really, genuine smile. ‘I will.’

They get married with a little ceremony as possible, and Mothma agrees to it on the condition they have a big public reception after the baby’s born. 

‘That is a terrible thing to do to a child,’ he says, when Leia explains the deal. 

‘A state wedding,’ Leia says, ‘would be a more terrible thing to do to me right now.’ Han loves her. A lot.

About a week after the wedding, Han lets himself into the suite they’re staying in and finds Leia staring down at a large, well-sealed parcel. It’s stamped with the insignia of the fledgling New Republic Navy, but it’s addressed to Leia Organa, not Commander Organa, so it’s personal.

Inside is another box wrapped in gold paper, and not even a card. Just a note taped to the side that says HAPPY MARRIAGE. No signature, but Han recognises Lando’s script.

‘Oh no,’ Han says. ‘Oh no.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Leia starts opening the box. ‘Lando has excellent taste.’ If it’s a pair of matching capes, Han will use his as a spit cloth for the baby.

It’s not. Leia lifts it out of the box: it’s an exquisite leather harness. Beautiful tooled patterns across it. Not white - fortunately, white would show the slightest stain - but a delicate pearly grey. Adjustable straps, one size fits most, and with lacing at the back as well. Han’s not exactly sure how big Leia’s going to get - he gets the idea it would be impolite to ask - but the harness should fit her now, and maybe for a while yet.

A note falls out of it. Han ignores it, and peers into the box. There’s… yep. Not one but three silicon dildos of various girths and lengths. None of them tastelessly realistic, and all very obviously expensive.

Leia reaches out to touch one, and the expression on her face is a glorious mixture of surprise, awe and lust. ‘They’re _nice_ ,’ she says, stroking up the length of the largest one. That is. Well. If Lando meant to send them a gift that would make Han incoherent with lust, that’s one way to do it.

‘Excellent taste,’ he says, and he can hear the quiver in his own voice.

Leia looks up at him. ‘You,’ she says, and she picks up the toy. ‘You’re into this,’ she says, cupping her hand loosely around it and sliding over the shaft like she’s lazily jerking it off.

‘Into… pegging?’ Han asks, looking from the dildo to the harness.

‘I figured _that_ out,’ Leia says. ‘I meant this,’ and she strokes the silicone again. 

‘Um.’ Han tries to think of a non-disastrous thing to say here. ‘I’m into _you_ ,’ he tries, because the truth always helps.

‘And you’re into silicon cocks,’ Leia says, smirking at him.

‘Be fair, I’m into regular humanoid ones too.’

‘I know,’ Leia says. ‘I’ve seen that first-hand.’ And, more to the point, she’d really enjoyed it, which is probably why Lando feels entitled to send them sex toys as a wedding gift. She’s still holding the toy, stroking it absently. ‘If I strap this on,’ she says, looking at him, ‘will you suck it?’

‘That’s… not going to do much for you,’ Han feels bound to point out. 

Leia rolls her eyes at him, then reaches up to cup his face in her hand. One thumb nudges at his lip, and he sucks on it a little, automatically. ‘But you look _good_ sucking dick,’ she says, and Han has to admit this is something he’s heard before.

Disappointingly, Leia lets him go and puts the toy back in its box. ‘There was a note,’ she says. It’s on the floor by her foot, but she’s past the point where bending down comes easily to her.

Han’s going to get it for her, of course he is. She preempts him first, though, stepping back and inclining her head.

‘Get that for me, would you, dear?’

She never calls him dear unless she’s got something up her sleeve. ‘Yes, Your Highness,’ he says, and he never calls her _that_ anymore except in situations like this. Not since she refused the Alderaanian embassy’s offer to reinstate her as titular monarch.

The note, when he straightens up, turns out to say “If you must settle down, settle down with high-quality equipment”.

‘Awww,’ Leia says, ‘he’s concerned about you.’

‘I think he’s being a shithead,’ Han says. 

‘Do people spend this much money on being shitheads?’ Leia asks. ‘He wants you to be properly fucked: that’s true friendship, that is.’

‘He also wants to give me shit about settling down,’ Han points out.

Leia looks at the harness, and the note, and back to Han. ‘Lando’s a nice man,’ she says. ‘I like nice men.’

‘Lando’s a scoundrel.’

‘I like those, too. We should have him over some time.’

‘We see him all the… oh,’ Han says. ‘Oh.’

‘Oh, indeed.’ Leia smirks. She picks up the harness again. ‘Now,’ she says, ‘I know how these work in theory…’

‘I’ve never fitted one before,’ Han says. He leans in to kiss her, which distracts them for a minute or so.

‘I have faith in you,’ Leia tells him, and sets the harness aside. ‘First, I believe I’m wearing too many clothes.’

‘And you expect me to do something about that?’

‘Yes,’ Leia says. ‘I do.’


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, you didn't expect the +1 in 'five times they banged' to be HAPPY, did you?

The last chance is on D’Qar. Leia doesn’t take it, and Han doesn’t either. They have time alone; the whole base, except the medbay, have time to breathe while Wexley’s off on recon. No one can make choices until they know what they’re facing.

Leia doesn’t want him here. She doesn’t want him alone with her. She doesn’t want him pretending to be nice to her; she doesn’t want him lurking in her command room, the only being here - the only being in the galaxy, save Luke, who evidently doesn’t care - who can tell that she’s holding it all together by willpower and charm alone.

She doesn’t want him here without Ben. Whatever there had been between her and Han aside from anger and really good sex, she’d lost track of it somewhere along the line. Anger, sex, and Ben. She hasn’t the energy to be angry, now, and she hasn’t time for sex, so all there is left is the gaping hole where their son ought to be.

‘Nothing is impossible,’ she tells him, and it’s a lie. Such a terrible lie. ‘If anyone can save him - it’s you.’

Han stares at her, and he can’t see she’s lying. She learned to lie from the best (Bail Organa, Bail Organa had been the best) and she honed her skills on the worst (Han himself).

‘If Luke couldn’t reach him…’ Han says.

‘Luke is a Jedi,’ Leia says, as if that’s all Luke ever was to Ben. To any of them. ‘You’re his father.’

Later, Han volunteers to blow things up and the Stormtrooper boy, the one who saved Poe Dameron, he volunteers to infiltrate the Starkiller. The boy knows how to bring down the shields, he says. Leia knows he’s lying, and she looks at Han and knows that Han knows that too, but he’ll go anyway.

She’s not lying when she says she always hated to see him leave. Leia didn’t want him here, but she hates to send him off like this. It’s a last chance, and she feels like the women in the history books, sending their men off to war. It’s not the battle. She never feels like that about sending her starfighters off: if she did, she’d have bowed under the pressure of it years ago.

Han’s different. There’s always Ben.

‘Bring our son home,’ she says. 

Come home with your shield, or on it.

**Author's Note:**

> If I ever remember what the remaining four parts were supposed to be I'll turn this into a chapter-fic. (Update: that thing seems to be happening! If I should flake or forget, though, let it be stated that this all fits in the same timeline as 'The Organa-Solo Guide to Fraternising With Subordinate Officers', so you can go there for something vaguely approximating emotional resolution.)
> 
> Posted without beta, so shout if you see SPaG problems.


End file.
